In Sync
by The JohhnyMcKilt Productions
Summary: Oneshot.It's extremely hard for Oliver and Enrique to stay mad at eachother, not when their comfort zone is the same cafe they spend so much time in together.


A/N: Ever had OTPs in each fandom you've been to? Out of all the OTPs you've had, are you wondering which is the real OTP you'll always stick to, whether you like to or not?

Here's a simple test to know which one of your many OTPs is your _real _OTP. After all...it isn't called a One True Pairing for nothing.

While your immersed in one fandom (as in deeply immersed, like me and Kyou Kara Maou right now), trying telling yourself to sit down and write for an OTP in a totally different fandom (say...GianOli back here in ol' Beyblade).

If you come up with a oneshot in under a day without mentally draining yourself to write, then it's your OTP.

...and it sucks! I try so hard to glorify my KKM OTP and then I come up with GianOli shots in under days?!

But seriously...Enrique, Oliver, I love you guys to the death, just not right now!

Anyway, since y'all know I've been immersed in KKM, yeah. Enjoy!xD

**In Sync**

_**Oneshot**_

Oliver felt pathetic.

He was being silly, he knew. Ordering a light lunch for two, sitting on the breeziest, most beautifully secluded table of the outdoor cafe, waiting for somebody, whom he was painfully aware would never come, in the most undignified manner of a lovesick teenager.

In reality, he had left his mansion that Thursday morning, disconcerted and thinking it was a Saturday, to go on a walk and clear his head. There was certainly no denying the French boy had been glum for approximately two weeks for reasons undefined.

Rather, Oliver didn't want to define why he was glum, though the real reason was hiding behind the sheet of clean fill clouding his heart.

Robert and Johnny...

They had their own affairs, and as much as they cherished the team like a brotherhood, they had to leave the youngest Majestics to solve their problems on their own. Besides, the Scot and the German had no idea how Oliver's argument with Enrique began, owing it to their trust in the two closest friends in the world to solve anything and everything.

Apparently not.

Hence, Robert and Johnny could offer Oliver nothing but a passing, well-intentioned sympathy, as confused as the green-haired boy was, before leaving him to his own devices.

Neither of the older boys could contact Enrique. Oliver didn't want to, so they left the blonde to smoulder as he would back in Rome.

Going back to that Satur—Thursday, Oliver had switched on autopilot and let his feet take him to the cafe he never failed to frequent with his best friend, be it for hanging out, gossip exchange, empathizing or any sort of comfortable interaction under the sun. While still brooding, the autopilot had apparently gone overboard and bought food, drinks and led him to said breezy table always reserved for the rich pair. It was only when Oliver's ass touched the cushion did he come to and frown at himself.

What on earth was he expecting?

It wasn't like his best friend would suddenly pop out of a daisy bush with that disarming smile and pleasantly have chitchat like how they would. Enrique was currently thoroughly annoyed with the greenette and he had every right to be.

As stated, the pair had argued and the French boy just had to choose that perfect opportunity to go ahead and be stubbornly immature without giving an ounce of considerations for his best friend, the problems and decisions he may be facing. What's more, Oliver left when he was needed the most.

He knew it wasn't exactly easy for Enrique to waltz right back to their old routine as if nothing happened. But then, as evidenced by the actions influenced by his subconscious that afternoon, Oliver didn't know how to handle his situation, leaving his body to find some sort of solace in familiarity, hence the cafe and food.

It had always been like that.

Before, when one boy would come to the cafe, it was most likely that the other boy would find him there after a mere half hour, buying food and ready to offer comforts due to incredible gut feel developed by their intensely close friendship.

Comfort...sure, because Oliver didn't know what to do with himself, with Enrique. In light of their argument, all the greenette wanted was to be friends once more with the feisty Italian. He could never bring himself to stay mad at the boy and coming to the cafe was, in a sense, his last cling to a desperate, far hope.

No. He certainly did not want to fight with Enrique again, for whatever reason.

"Is this seat taken?"

Oliver's response was automatic. "No."

Lavender-lilac eyes dispassionately eyes the sun-kissed hand that moved to take the second gourmet sandwich and followed their progress to wherever the delicious pair would predictably go to. He had half mind to scold the audacious, disrespectful person in front of him when lavender locked on summer blue.

"...En?"

Enrique gave his best friend a sad, apologetic, albeit sheepish smile. "Hey Oli..."

Oliver's face still clearly spelled shock. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before the blonde shook his head with a good natured laugh and took a huge bite out of his sandwich.

After swallowing, Enrique spared an amused look for his companion. "Stop looking like a fish out the water, Les Desmond. It's really me."

The French boy remained unconvinced, rather, still frankly shocked but somewhat coherent. "Why—?"

The blonde shrugged and took a sip of the drink bought for him. "I always come here when I've got problems..."

Wide lavender-lilac eyes glazed over with unshed tears. "How did you...?"

The poor greenette was confused as to why Enrique was being so casual with him when mere days ago, he had been the one screaming obscenities, making Oliver hate himself for being passive, selfish and unknowing what he could do to possibly rectify their relationship.

Enrique grinned, but not quite the dashing killer one he always sported. It was one of a unique fondness. "Because I knew _you_ would," he said simply and took his best friend's lax hand. "I'll pay you back soon, alright?"

Oliver's face broke into a brilliant smile and he nodded vigorously, clasping the sun-kissed appendage in his shaking ones.

Just like that, they shared quaint meals at their favorite outdoor cafe once more. Solid proof that no matter how serious their arguments could get, the pull of the secluded garden chairs, chicken sandwiches topped with fresh lettuce and tomato, served with delightfully cold summer drinks drew the best friends together in their search for some comfrot both for the heart and palate, however disconcerted their states of being were.

Disturbing as it was effective, the cafe held too many good times safekept for rainy days to convince either boy that their friendship was too spun in gold to fall apart so easily.

Besides, Oliver and Enrique always seemed to know when they were to meet and eat there. Both truly and inevitably in sync.

**END**

A/N: I felt like I rambled in a blog entry...not quite up to par as usual but still worthwhile! Forgive typos. And just so y'all know, I was too lazy to come up with an actual problem, so I just established they had one. ...enjoy!xD and ciAo...


End file.
